The End of an Eternity
by HotSauce202
Summary: The Mars Star has given Isaac extended life. . . a 170 year old man looking surely no older than 60! He has chosen his new apprentice, for he can detect the dawn of war. UPDATE, 1.24.08, Chapter 2 is officially up! Expect more though I make no promises
1. Prologue

Prologue:

In the wake of victory, when the final battle was won, the Eight Legendary Warriors were received with great cheer. Their story was brought across nations, across continents, across time itself it endured.

No matter how one loathed another, they always had one thing in common: they knew the Eight Legendary Warriors. Isaac, Felix, Garet, Jenna, Ivan, Sheba, Mia and Piers.

These were the adepts. Now that alchemy had been returned to Weyard, adepts were surfacing all across the land. But many seized power with their new ability. In the Text of Adventure, the One had warned humanity of this: that one day a terrible lord would rise to enslave his fellow human. It was also said in the Text of Felix, lying on his death bed: "My friends, don't quarrel. Speak but to the land that it shall always be so. Pray but to the stars that it will come and be gone."

For many years and decades and centuries, Weyard heeded this warning. It was not long before paranoia became suspicion, and suspicion caution, and caution a memory, fading in the labyrinths of history.


	2. Chapter 1: The Ship

_Disclaimer: Golden Sun and any and all characters that appear in it are property of Nintendo. I don't claim to own any of them._

"_At the end of the day, there was only one thing that drove us forward: that there would one day be more of us. That one day, the barriers between alchemy and Weyard would be broken, and we would usher in the age of the adept. So that you, my reader, might one day have the opportunity to use the forces that we used to make it so." -Ivan, _The Journey

Zoriel woke up early that morning and sat in his bed. . . eavesdropping.

"I know the boy isn't a child anymore," said Sofrea, Zoriel's mother. "But an adept? Those are some far fetched dreams."

"Sof'," said Darea. "I've seen him practice, he has talent. I think you know it, you just can't bring yourself to admit that your boy is growing up. Zoriel is fifteen years old now, and ever since the Restoration, being talented means that much more. It's not like when Isaac and Felix were confined to fixing roofs in Vale as young men."

He could hear his mother sigh from the other room. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I know. But there will always be somebody with more talent than him; always somebody who's better. What then? What if he gives up his dream?"

"Then he really is still a child," said Darea. "But it's up to him to decide, or rather discover, if he has what it takes to even try."

"Well, don't worry about that, then, he'll be getting his chance."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well," Mother began, "it's just that his birthday passed just two weeks ago and he thinks that I've already given him all of his gifts."

Zoriel's heart jumped in his stomach. Another gift? That would allow him to test himself as an adept?

"Ahh, say no more." Darea said.

Then what unspoken interaction had just taken place that he had missed? Darea knew, so why couldn't he figure it out? It was true what she had said, it was easier to make something of yourself since the Restoration. Well, there weren't ANY adepts before the Restoration, save a few well-kept secrets, but that's not to say that talented adepts weren't in high demand.

"There's a problem, though," Mother said. "What if he doesn't make it, what if he gets discouraged and gives up? I mean, I'm scared for him, but if he can really do something then I want him to."

_Doesn't make it, _she had said; a competition? Zoriel took quick note of the choice of words and kept listening.

"You just have to make sure that that doesn't happen," Darea said. "Give him the right motivation. Remind him that even though he didn't make it now, that doesn't mean he'll never make it."

"Well, I suppose you're right. I guess we'll see what happens."

"Right. Well, it's about time I got going anyway, Sof'."

"Oh, all right." She sighed. "I just wish he dreamed to be a sailor or a smith."

"Piers was a sailor. Good day to you." Zoriel heard the door latch closed right after that.

I won't give up, Mother, Zoriel thought. I'll keep trying until I reach my goal. Some may quit in the face of a challenge, but not me. I'll keep going until the day I die.

. . . And I might just die if I don't eat something soon.

He slowly got up out of bed, slipped on his tunic and walked out into the kitchen where Mother was staring into space.

"Good morning, Mother."

She was startled. "Oh! Good morning Zoriel. . ."

"Umm. . . Mother? Are you alrigh--"

"Oh, yes. Breakfast is in the oven."

She tapped her fingers on the edge of the table, as though in a trance.

"Or maybe he's more of a child than I thought. . ." she mumbled.

"I heard that," Zoriel said.

Her head snapped over at him, but she didn't look surprised. "And I said it. Come on, eat your breakfast and go down to the temple."

"Ehh, I'm not hungry." Actually, he was ravenously hungry, but he liked to get the hard part over with.

He stepped out the door and felt the cool morning air hit his cheeks. He reveled in the outdoors for a moment, took a deep breath, and then started down the woodsy path for the temple.

The temple, where he went to pray to the One and ask for protection and strength. The temple, where he contemplated existence and the workings of life and death. The temple, where he could barely control his urge to take Eatal, his prayer sister, aside and confess his love for her. It was really quite cruel, what they made everyone do. It all consisted of hand-holding and staring into the other's eyes for endless amounts of time. I mean, she's lovely and I'm fifteen, what am I to do? Eatal, my prayer sister since the age of eleven, I have watched you grow fairer as the years have passed. As prayer siblings, I feel we have a special connection. A connection that can't truly be understood by those who don't have prayer siblings. In a way our relationship is strictly that of peers. Yet at the same time, we have a deep connection as we pray together, pooling our wills for the One to hear us.

He suddenly fell forward and caught himself with his hands. He had tripped over a root in his pining.

He picked himself up and brushed the dirt from his tunic.

I suppose it's good that I tripped now and not in front of Eatal.

And speaking of Eatal, she was standing in front of the temple waiting for him. He was late; his stomach twisted as he approached, but he took no notice of it.

As he got closer, she spoke. "Zoriel! You're late. You missed the whole prayer, and I got stuck with Wenef.

He snickered. Wenef was a twelve-year-old, notorious for his large appetite. . . and waist.

"Oh, you think it's funny, but I had to hold his sweaty hands the whole time. I could barely concentrate on my prayer!

So, now you know how I feel, he said silently to himself. "Yeah, well, I need my beauty rest, you know?" he said.

"You sound like some Tolbian model," she said.

"Well, I'm not. I'm just a lowly, Madran apprentice." He couldn't stop saying it, he was obsessed with his psynergy-oriented abilities.

"Yes, I know. You say it about twenty times a day." Or maybe it hadn't been such a good idea.

Oh, what the hell. "Well, I had better head back, I have to go train."

"Twenty-one. All right, I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late!"

He waved, and turned out of sight.

Damnit, Zoriel! You didn't have to leave. She wanted to talk to you, what's wrong with you!?

You could've just asked her if she wanted to join you for some tea in the village. You could've just asked her to follow you into the forest and-

Wouldn't ever work.

Ahh, well. No use damning the past.

He walked about for a minute or two, passing a squirrel nipping at a nut, who scampered up the trunk of a tree as it heard the leaves crunching beneath Zoriel's feet.

Actually, he really didn't want to use psynergy at all. He had mostly said that to impress Eatal (and himself), but in reality, it was probably a good idea. So he swallowed his pride and found the perfect spot.

He picked up a rock about the size of an apple and held it in the palm of his hand. He concentrated on it, felt it. It was a part of him, part of his mind. He saw the rock, and then he saw it move.

"Move. . ." he muttered.

The rock seemed to hurl itself out of his hand.

He spotted a larger rock, about the size of a watermelon. Again, he saw the rock, he saw himself. He saw his mind reach out and touch the rock. He felt the rock, it was a part of himself, it was his own mind; he knew this rock.

And then, he reached out with his mind and broke the rock.

"Shatter," he said intensely. The rock suddenly shattered into several pieces. He had always been proud of that one, because he had made it himself.

"You're quite good at that, you know."

He turned, it was Mother.

"I didn't know you watched me. . ." he said.

"Just because you don't see me, doesn't mean I'm not there. I've got a surprise for you."

"What is it?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"Well. . . then it wouldn't be a surprise. Come up to the house and we'll leave after breakfast."

They walked back up the woodsy path. He looked over at his mother and for a moment their eyes met, but she immediately looked in the other direction, as though his stare alone might yield the answer he wanted.

Of course, he thought, as he grinned wickedly, if I were a Jupiter adept, it just might.

"Come, on Zoriel, you wouldn't want to be late!"

"I still don't know where we're going!"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," she said.

"Just a hint?"

"Oh, all right," Mother said. "We're going on a ship."

A ship, he thought. We must be going to another continent! Maybe we're going to Tolbi, the city's always boasted a large adept population, but maybe I shouldn't get my hopes up.

They arrived at the shipyard and boarded their ferry. It was northbound toward Angara.

"Mother we're going to Tolbi, aren't we?"

She snickered and said "I'm not telling you!"

"Oh, fine," Zoriel said. "I'm going to look around."

"Meet me here."

Zoriel surveyed his surroundings, trying to decide where to go first. The ship really was lavish and well-furnished. Shops dotted the deck, as well as clubs and restaurants. He peered into the window of one and saw a group of rich-looking sophisticates laughing and eating expensive food and drinking fine wine. If we're taking this ship, he thought, we must be going somewhere big. As he looked around some more, he saw a bustle of people at the cafe on the ship, so he decided to go there.

"May I help you?" asked the pretty young woman at the desk, almost as soon as he had stepped near the place. Zoriel thought she looked overworked.

"Yeah," he said, thinking of a random beverage. "I'll have a cup of, uh, Earl Grey, please."

"Good choice," and she winked at him. "I'll let you know when it's ready."

He smiled back, thanked her, and went to go look for a table.

Zoriel was about to sit down, when he overheard two men talking rather vehemently at a table some 20 feet away.

"I don't care if Loho thinks they can blow us out of the water with their fancy cannons and steam-powered ships," the one man said, "if they go to war with Tolbi, they're gonna be running home with their tails – and their cannons! -- tucked between their legs! We've got the largest, most skilled adepts in all of Weyard!"

War between Tolbi and Loho? Zoriel hadn't even known there were wars ANYWHERE. Those were the kinds of things that were in books, books about before the Restoration. Zoriel walked over and sat down at an adjacent table, looking the other way.

The other man spoke now. "Except for Vale. But look, any way you split it, technology's becoming prevalent and replacing psynergy as a practical means of transportation, communication, and just about any other industry across the board. Do you really think that Tolbi can contend with that kind of revolution?"

"I do, and I think they will. We'll find out who's really right when they DO go to war."

"I suppose so. Anyway, what do you think of the new silk trades going on between Izumo and--"

But Zoriel had stopped listening at this point. War. It was really happening? Both of the men seemed very sure that it'd happen, and soon. But war couldn't happen. Was the whole world full of idiots? Didn't they listen to Felix? Didn't they trust that if war broke out, it would tear Weyard apart?

"A whole bunch of morons. . ." Zoriel hissed under his breath.

"Hey, Earl," he heard someone yell. "Earl Grey, your tea's ready." And then he knew who it was.

He walked over to the counter. "Thanks," he said. "And it's Zoriel."

"Lyette. And Zoriel, this might sound a bit off, but you've got that twinkle, like you're gonna really DO something. Y'know?"

He laughed. "That's the idea."

"Well, listen," Lyette said. "If you're coming back the same way, drop by, will you?"

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'll do that."

"See you then." And as he walked away, he saw her wink again out of the corner of his eye.

Suddenly, a psynergy-magnified announcement (I'd like to see technology replace that!) told everyone that they were docking near Venus Lighthouse, and would be continuing onward shortly.

He met his mother, but when he asked her if they should get off she simply shook her head.

Still could be Tolbi, he thought.

But when they missed the Tolbian Gulf, he knew it was something else. At this point, however, he figured it would be pointless to guess, so he just waited patiently.

Later on in the day, around three-o-clock, they arrived at the Southern Angaran River. They sailed up past the Lamakan Desert and stopped near Vault.

"Oh, we're going to Vale, aren't we?" he asked his Mother. It was so obvious now.

"Shh! I said no more hints."

But he already knew. Her very refusal to talk about it was all the proof he needed. And when they arrived at Vale, she finally admitted that yes, that was where they were going.

She looked him in the eyes and said: "You're going to go see Isaac, if you wish."

See Isaac. He knew what that meant. He would have to try to scale the mountain and dodge traps and defeat beasts and demons to get to the top, where Isaac waited for any who passed the challenge. Then he would judge you and see if you were worthy to be his apprentice. Apparently, he hadn't taken in an apprentice since Daroth, twenty-two years ago.

Truth be told, he was scared to death at this prospect, but he made sure not to show it. "Sure," he said.

They headed toward Mount Aleph, where he would face his challenge. He was actually quite surprised that Mother had let him do this. It was really quite dangerous. Many died trying, and most were injured.

"Mother," he said.

"Yes?"

"Thank you." He hugged her and walked down under the stone arch into the clearing where he lined up beside many others. Most of them donned armor, or sometimes mage's robes. Those who didn't looked deadly scared, save one girl, around Zoriel's age, wearing knee-high, worn leather boots, form-fitting jeans, and a light vest. Zoriel thought that the look complimented her, rather than make her seem unattractive or tomboyish.

A Valean looked them all from head to toe.

"I'm Tom," he said, "and I'm going to be your judge today. I'll give you an apple and tell you to influence it with psynergy in some way according to your element. Don't worry, I can tell what it is just by looking. If you fail to accomplish your task in any way, you will be eliminated immediately. If you manage to influence your apple in some way, I will then decide whether or not you will be allowed to enter Mount Aleph. Questions?"

Zoriel looked around. Nobody made so much as a sound or raised so much as a finger.

"Alright then," Tom said. And he gave the first one in the line an apple. He was a boy, by the looks of him, maybe eleven or twelve.

"Lift this," he said.

The student, looking bewildered, tried to lift it, but could not.

"Sorry, come back in a month and try again, Urling."

The student left.

"Poor kid. He comes in every month, but he can never get past the initial test."

He gave an apple to the next student – the girl.

"Hah, I know you're qualified, Aonel. Why don't you just eat it?"

And then she took a large bite out of the apple.

"Eww," she said. Her voice was both soft and bitingly sarcastic at the same time. "Not good, Tom. You might want to work on getting apples that taste a little bit better. I hope these aren't homegrown."

Tom smiled wanly. "No, they're not. You'll have to go take it up with Alec at the market." He coughed slightly. "But I digress."

He walked up to the next student, a short fellow. He gave him an apple. He said "make this burst into flames." A Mars adept.

The student's eyes widened and glinted. The apple burst into flames.

"Congrats." The instructor walked up to Zoriel, gave him an apple, and rubbed his stubbled chin deliberately, as though deciding Zoriel's fate.

"Split this," he said.

That was something Zoriel had never tried before. He guessed that that was the point of the test.

Zoriel closed his eyes and concentrated on the apple before him. He felt the apple, knew the apple. The apple was part of him, and he was part of the apple. He reached out with his mind and touched the apple. Then, he reached out and split the apple right down the middle.

He opened his eyes.

Everybody was staring at him.

He looked up at the instructor. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Um, not exactly. You see, this is the first time that somebody who's never been here before has been able to split the apple." The instructor patted him on the shoulder. "Good job."

Zoriel couldn't help but feel proud of himself. He looked around at everybody; several of them were still looking at him, while several others were watching the next student try to crush the apple. The one girl in particular, "Aonel," the instructor had called her, was eying him intently. He met her gaze for a long time, until she looked away, at the student who was attempting to freeze the apple.


	3. Chapter 2: The Sacred City

"_...and in regards to Vale, it is one of the nicest, most inviting places I know. That and I built the new inn." -Ivan, _The Journey

The preliminaries had ended. All the participants were to return in an hour's time to see if they qualified. Afterwards, many of them had lined up in front of Tom to see how well they did, including Zoriel (the girl, Aonel, Zoriel saw, had walked out as soon as they were dismissed).

"Go on, get out of here. You'll know in an hour's time." And everyone had turned to leave, looking somewhat disappointed.

Just as Zoriel had been turning to walk away, however, Tom put a hand on his shoulder and said to him quietly: "Look, I'll give you a hint. You did really well, okay? But go and get out of here before I change my mind. Visit the shops or, um, take in the sights while you're here."

And then Tom left, but at least now Zoriel could afford to be optimistic.

When he had went and found his mother and told her, she was optimistic, too.

"Oh, Zori," she had said, "you're sure to get in, if he said something like that. Do be careful, though."

Zoriel rolled his eyes. "You know I will, Mother."

"Good. Well anyway, you can go off without me. I won't force my old boring self on you."

Zoriel laughed. "Boring, yeah right."

She looked very earnest. "Go on, I won't stop you."

"Okay," he said. "I'll see you in an hour."

Then he had left her, too. And now, now he was walking the streets of Vale. _Vale! _Of all places I would've guessed a day ago that I would be right now, this is definitely one of the last places. There were so many things he could do, so many things in the city. There were the adept fights, exotic blends of food, and. . .

And that girl, Aonel. He couldn't stop thinking that she was special in some way, or different. That he needed to talk to her. He was standing in the most famous city on Weyard, with an entire world of possibilities open to him, and all he could think about was going back to Mount Aleph and asking Tom where he could find her. Would Tom even be there? Would he know? They seemed friendly enough to each other, but were they really that friendly, or simply acquaintances, partners in the knowledge that she "was qualified" to enter Mount Aleph, whatever THAT really entitled.

At first, Zoriel was suspicious of his own mind. Was he simply infatuated with her? Truthfully, he could answer no. In fact, his interest wasn't sexually related whatsoever. What he couldn't figure out, however, was what AT ALL it was related to. Sure, she was attractive, but so were half the women in Vale. No, it was different. He kept getting the feeling that she was unlike everybody else in the city, that she alone was the person he had to talk to most. His fascination was ridiculous, frankly: why should he care about a girl he hadn't even technically met? Sure, they had STARED at each other for a good quarter of a minute, and she was apparently a skilled adept, but was there really anything else there?

These questions bounced around the inside of his head as he just stood in the same spot, letting the crowd pass him by, not caring to be the first person in line, or ten minutes early for a reservation. Then suddenly, he saw it. A familiar visage in the crowd, one he'd seen recently, and then it was gone.

"Wait. . ." he said to nobody but himself. "Lyette?" he whispered in disbelief.

But she was gone. Whoever he had seen, whether it was the friendly young woman behind the beverage counter, or somebody else, they were gone.

And then it hit him. THAT was it: Aonel looked like Lyette. He hadn't noticed at first, because every other aspect of her appearance was completely different, and even her personality. A small voice inside him admitted that that didn't really explain why he felt strangely drawn to her, but maybe it could justify it. And then another thing occurred to him: could that have been Aonel who had just passed by? No, he was certain. It definitely WAS her. So then she was still in the city. Well, for the time being, he decided to forget about Aonel, or at the very least, to try.

Zoriel took a deep breath and began walking in the direction that the crowd was walking (as though any other direction were possible in this mess of people). There were adept fights, he knew, and he also knew that that was where all these people were going, so he stuck with them.

After a couple minutes, or so, he arrived at what appeared to be a large stone building, with a courtyard in front that was surrounded by an audience. Zoriel managed to squeeze in far enough to see what was going on: two adepts were fighting in an arena. One was tall and muscular under a mass of redish-brown hair, while the other was lean with gray eyes and slick black hair. The taller of the two was producing fire from his hands; punching with fiery fists, while the other was battling with a shining sword composed of only crystalline ice.

It was obviously staged, as they kept letting slip easy opportunities to defeat their opponent and continued fighting, but the crowd still seemed to love it.

Zoriel looked further ahead at the large open gates at the main entrance. There was a large sign next to a guard that said "Adept fights inside," so Zoriel walked closer until he was standing right next to the guard and asked "so there are real fights inside?"

The guard smiled at his guile, and said calmly, yes, that there were real fights inside.

Zoriel thanked him and walked inside, only to find himself surrounded by an enormous room with one of the highest ceilings he had ever seen, with stairways to floors leading up to it. There seemed to be three main hallways: "Novice," "Intermediate," and "Advanced." Zoriel immediately walked into the third and asked the man standing at the door "how much?"

He looked at him with what seemed to be a somewhat amused expression, which frankly, Zoriel never wanted to see pointed at him again. "Ten coins, but I think you ought to go to the Novice arena," he said.

On the inside, Zoriel boiled, but he willed his expression to remain calm. "So it's that advanced, huh?" And he forced himself to smile.

"Oh, you can go in," the man said, "but only if you think you can follow two warriors attacking each other at the speed of sound."

That had to be an exaggeration. There was no way that they moved that fast. "Fine, I'll try one of the other ones." And he walked out.

Now he was back in the lobby and he grudgingly headed toward the "Novice" hallway, but when he got inside there was no guard, but people were swarmed around the ring; parents with children, families watching. . . either way, all he could see was the light given off by the fighters' psynergy attacks, so he left again and went into the "Intermediate" room.

Here, he saw there was still no guard at the door, but like before the ring was swarmed with people, but this time, they looked to be students of alchemy, watching carefully and taking notes, and he couldn't see a thing.

Walking back into the Advanced hallway, he said "I'll pay the ten coins" as he walked up to the guard, who merely smiled and said "as you wish," and held out his hand.

Zoriel paid him and walked through the now open door with a sense of anticipation. Would this one be swarmed with people as well? What would the fights REALLY be like? He stepped into the room and saw that there were far less people in this room, but he still could only see the flashes of light from psynergy attacks reflected against the wall from where he was standing. He looked around: the viewers appeared to be for the most part much older, perhaps professional adepts, or seasoned fighters. In the one corner was a man leaning against the wall, looking somewhat disinterested, or bored. Was he chaperoning, perhaps?  
Zoriel walked closer to the ring and at first saw nothing. Then both adepts appeared right before his eyes, a flurry of strikes flying from one to the other; Zoriel couldn't even tell if they were using weapons or not. Flashes of light, and advanced psynergy that Zoriel had never seen before were dancing before his eyes. Suddenly, they both stopped, for a moment, and Zoriel got a better look at them. One was a man, of an average height, muscular, and had blond hair and brown eyes. He looked a bit worse for wear. The other was a woman, who considering what she had just been through (whatever it was, really, Zoriel couldn't see), looked remarkably clean. She was tall and had darker blond hair and hazel eyes. It was clear that she was in control of the fight at this point.

Again they dashed into the middle, and then disappeared, and reappeared, but in the air, the man standing on a pillar of earth, the woman floating in the air, her hair blowing in all directions from the ferocious wind surrounding her. Then Zoriel couldn't see anything but a blur of colors and fists and swords, or maybe not. He was awed: it hadn't been an exaggeration. They were really fighting at the speed of sound. And as Zoriel watched the blur in front of him, it strengthened his resolve.

Zoriel rubbed his eyes as he walked out of the building. They hurt from concentrating so hard.

One day Zoriel would be able to fight the same. He would move with the same grace and speed, strike with equal power and precision; it was only a matter of time.

He figured time was about half up, so another 30 minutes and he'd be heading back. . . but for the life of him he couldn't think of something to do.

I've spent my whole life looking forward to being in Vale, but pretty much only to do what I've already started. So just what else did people DO in the Sacred City?

The obvious answer was that they did touristy things (or in other words, nothing), but Zoriel had never really been a fan of the norm, so just what else could he do that piqued his interest? Just about everything he could think of was off limits: taking part in some adept sparring, going inside Sol Sanctum, meeti--

And then he stopped, and did a double take.

"What. . . the hell? And spotting the elemental Djinn?"

He hadn't been expecting it, but when he saw the figure in the distant field he knew exactly what it was? How many times in the past had he found himself staring at pictures of Flint and feeling upset that the little guy wasn't sitting right there with him? If he hadn't recognized the likeness he probably would've kicked himself for it later.

And then he realized that there was no reason not to go run over to that field right now and see all the Djinn. He dropped whatever he had been holding in his hand, and began sprinting to the spot where he had seen them. It was almost as though the ground was moving right along with him, quickening his commute.

And then all of a sudden he was standing right next to the person holding the Djinni, and he felt quite foolish.

I really need to learn to think things through.

The person stared at him, and for a moment Zoriel was afraid of what their next action would be, but then they simply burst out laughing. Long, hardy, whooping laughs that warmed Zoriel merely to hear them. Then he finally spoke.

"Didn't really think that one through, when you came careening over here to see them, did you?" And he laughed again.

Zoriel tried to hide his embarrassment. "Guess not," he said quietly.

"'Name's Garet," and he held out his hand, which Zoriel shook readily. "I know, unoriginal, but somebody's gotta be the copycat. And you are?"

It took him a moment to find his voice again, as he was so taken aback by the man's nonchalantness. "Oh, uh, it's Zoriel."

Garet looked at him and stroked his chin, as though judging him. "Took you a moment there, to remember. Tell me, Zoriel, do you, by any chance, have amnesia?" And then his face broke into a grin.

Zoriel couldn't help but smirk. "No I don't. But then again, perhaps I've merely forgotten?"

And Garet broke into a grin again, clearly pleased that Zoriel had caught on. "See, now you got it. You have to stay two steps ahead of it. Remember not to remember to remember.

"I like you, Zoriel. Would you like to see them?"

"Oh, uh, sure," Zoriel said. He was surprised, frankly. That was all it took to see the Djinn? Play along that you have amnesia and then you're qualified. But hell, Zoriel wasn't complaining or anything, just confused.

"Who would you like to see?" Garet said, gesturing toward the Djinn.

Zoriel's jaw dropped slightly at the sight of all of them standing there in the same spot.

"It's Flint, isn't it?" Garet said, knowingly. "Flint or Echo. Everybody wants to see either Flint or Echo."

Zoriel smiled as he murmured "Flint."

He looked over at the Djinni with something akin to anticipation, as Garet slowly gestured Flint over. Then he spoke.

"Remember, although they can't actually speak, they CAN communicate directly to your mind. It can feel a bit strange at first. I remember the first time I heard one of them talk to me it was almost as if they were my own thoughts, but eventually it was easy to distinguish between the two."

Flint waddled over to Zoriel, perhaps less gracefully than than Zoriel would've imagined. Then suddenly, with a show of unexpected strength, Flint jumped from the ground a few feet away directly on to Zoriel's shoulder.

Then Zoriel felt another presence in his mind, exactly as Garet had described. It wasn't really words, though, it was very different. Almost as though the need for words had been stripped away. No, Flint was communicating in a much more advanced way, directly transferring thoughts and ideas. The barrier that words create had been torn down, and an intimate connection had been formed instantly.

_I'm Flint. Yes, I know Isaac. You are Zoriel and you're going to climb Mount Aleph. You have abilities to control earth, and you're quite good at it. I like you, Zoriel, you have a pure heart._

It was strange, the way Flint spoke. It was as though as soon as Flint told him something Zoriel had actually known it already, and Flint had just uncovered it from within his mind.

Then, suddenly Zoriel felt a change within himself. He felt as though a mysterious power was flowing through him. Not from himself, but somehow more his own than ever before. Then he felt Flint forming ideas in his mind again.

_I have linked myself to you the same way I linked myself to Isaac and the others when they wished to magnify their power. You can feel the power flowing through you, but you know that it is really your own._

Zoriel was pulled back to reality when Garet spoke again.

"That little guy just equipped himself to you, didn't he? I recognize that look anywhere. It's the look of sudden understanding."

Zoriel tried to speak. "Uhh. . ."

"Yeah, it's difficult in the beginning, to stay out of your head. Hey, Flint! Take it easy on him, will you?"

And then Zoriel felt the power pull away. It was still there, but it manifested itself in a less direct way; made him confident, more alert.

"That's better," Zoriel said. "But there's just one question: I thought Isaac had all the Djinn."

"Well, yeah," Garet said. "Technically, their allegiance has always been to him and the other seven heroes, since they were the ones who first found them, but Isaac says he doesn't need them anymore and that he knows they'd like it better helping somebody out."

"Ahh," Zoriel said.

"They're not mine, either, though. Isaac's great-great-granddaughter keeps them most of the time, and sometimes Master Hama borrows them for a little while. Me? I just tend to them while the others aren't around. That being said, I still know a thing or two."

"I'd imagine," Zoriel said. "Spending so much time with them and all."

"Yeah, well, speaking of time, I'd better go."

Then Zoriel remembered that he was supposed to be at Mount Aleph. Probably right at that very moment.

"Oh, crap! I have to go to Mount Aleph right now!"

Garet just smiled. "Nice meeting you." He paused. "Perhaps Flint would like to go with you?"

"No," Zoriel said. And as he said the words he knew them to be true: "Flint says that that's a trial I have to undergo alone for now."

Garet smiled knowingly again. "Of course. Come along Flint."

And like that Zoriel felt the mysterious presence disappear from himself, but he couldn't much dwell on it.

"Thanks, bye!" Zoriel yelled to Garet - and secretly to Flint as well – as he ran toward Mount Aleph.

He was relieved to find, when he got there, that he had not, in fact, missed the judging. Aonel, however, once again seemed to mysteriously possess all of his senses. And as the judgments were being read, he once again looked over at her-- only to find her staring right back.

**Author's notes:**

**So, now things begin to heat up a bit! Please, review, it makes my day. I want to hear what you have to say so I can make the story better.**


End file.
